mine?" O'Brien questioned. "Did you see
ut, Johnny Sheehan?"

Johnny Sheehan, who was the youngest of the boys, did not answer.

"Did you see ut?" O'Brien next asked Mahoney.

"No, I didn't see ut."

The men were muttering and growling.

"'Twas a fair drawin'," Sullivan said. "Ye had yer chanct an' ye lost,
that's all iv ut."

"A fair drawin'," the captain added. "Didn't I behold it myself? The
stick was yours, O'Brien, an' ye may as well get ready. Where's the
cook? Gorman, come here. Fetch the tureen cover, some of ye. Gorman, do
your duty like a man."

"But how'll I do it," the cook demanded. He was a weak-eyed,
weak-chinned, indecisive man.

"'Tis a damned murder!" O'Brien cried out.

"I'll have none of ut," Mahoney announced. "Not a bite shall pass me
lips."

"Then 'tis yer share for better men than yerself," Sullivan sneered. "Go
on with yer duty, cook."

"'Tis not me duty, the killin' of b'ys," Gorman protested irresolutely.

"If yez don't make mate for us, we'll be makin' mate of yerself," Behane
threatened. "Somebody must die, an' as well you as another."

Johnny Sheehan began to cry. O'Brien listened anxiously. His face was
pale. His lips trembled, and at times his whole body shook.

"I signed on as cook," Gorman enounced. "An' cook I wud if galley there
was. But I'll not lay me hand to murder. 'Tis not in the articles. I'm
the cook--"

"An' cook ye'll be for wan minute more only," Sullivan said grimly, at
the same moment gripping the cook's head from behind and bending it back
till the windpipe and jugular were stretched taut. "Where's yer knife,
Mike? Pass it along."

At the touch of the steel, Gorman whimpered.

"I'll do ut, if yez'll hold the b'y."

The pitiable condition of the cook seemed in some fashion to nerve up
O'Brien.

"It's all right, Gorman," he said. "Go on with ut. 'Tis meself knows yer
not wantin' to do ut. It's all right, sir"--this to the captain, who
had laid a hand heavily on his arm. "Ye won't have to hold me, sir. I'll
stand still."

"Stop yer blitherin', an' go an' get the tureen cover," Behane commanded
Johnny Sheehan, at the same time dealing him a heavy cuff alongside the
head.

The boy, who was scarcely more than a child, fetched the cover. He
crawled and tottered along the deck, so weak was he from hunger. The
tears still ran down his cheeks. Behane took the cover from him, at the
same time administering another cuff.

O'Brien took off his coat and